Remain Nameless
by ebonywingsandeyesofjade
Summary: This collection of small excerpts follows the lives of the next generation of Winchesters, each child's story more exciting than the last. This is a prequel of sorts, showing their lives after a terrible event. At the end of this series, the time before their normal life will be revealed in a full story, giving light to why and how everything came to be.
1. Chapter 1

In Dean Winchester's senior year of high school, he'd dropped out.

His friend, the best in all his years on the road; now, she deserved to stay in school. To achieve her dreams, grow up when she was meant to, and fall in love with the woman of her dreams.

Dean… he already had nothing out there for him. Not until their son had been born, and when Charlie was healed and back in school, he took full responsibility of the child.

Don't get him wrong, it'd broken Charlie's heart when he explained the logic of the situation, and despite her utter misery, came with it was resignation. Dean was right. She couldn't take care of a baby. She'd lived alone in a ramshackle house since the death of her parents, and besides the fact that she could barely take care of herself, it was no place for a baby.

Not that the Impala and motel rooms were any better, but it'd have to do.

Which, in fact, set into motion the deep longing of freedom in Sam's heart; life in a car, stuck between a wailing baby and a car door made resentment for his nephew grow guiltily in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn't the only thing the baby began. His birth had shaken the world awake, and set into motion something unlike the world had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

What they always forget to tell you is that acne never leaves.

Here he is, a goddamn grown man with a child- a child that was turning fucking five today - leant against the motel sink counter, which was probably bruising his pancreas or some shit, trying to pop a big red zit between his eyebrows.

He felt a familiar tickle of hair at his belly button, and he gave up with a sigh, letting his hand fall to his son's hair as the boy yawned into his pajama pants.

"Morning, birthday boy." He greeted softly, reaching under the boy's armpits to pull him up and prop him on his hip- which, yeah, was already a faint purple. His son let his hard head fall to his shoulder like a weight, and he winced. Even so, his fingers found themselves fondly tangled in strawberry blond curls, which were just on the verge of waving out and becoming a floppy monstrosity he must've inherited from Sam, or at least whoever the hell passed it to his brother.

He felt little fingers move against his neck, and he'd known his son long enough like this to know what he meant.

"Yeah, I gotcha. I saw a diner on the way in last night, whaddya think? They sell birthday cake?" he asked, and his son giggled groggily into his neck.

Dean got them dressed quickly, making sure to snap his son's hair into a small pigtail to keep it out of his eyes and soon, his food. He could just cut it, sure, but the kid threw a fit if he so much as waved a tweezer towards it, so whatever; his son was just his little brother all over again. He could work with that.

When he'd made sure the gun he'd been cleaning was locked in the motel safe, and his own pistol was tucked into the back of his jeans, he bundled his son into the Impala, and set down a slick damp road of Downtown Forney.

Forney was an old town, deep in the Dallas suburbs, and vast, if boring, in its attractions. He was here on a case, the most interesting in weeks, and he'd been quick to snag a motel in the older part of town. The most recent victim lived in one of the many large, Victorian styled houses even he had to admit were damn fine to look at.

But today was his son's birthday- who knew half a decade went by so damn fast- and he'd be damned if he didn't let the two of them have this one day. Maybe he'd be able to find a Chucky-Cheese and a movie, and yeah, he knew if he took the kid to a gravel pit to play in, he wouldn't give a single shit. He was like him in that way, a family kind of person, even if he only really had Dean now.

He trusted Sam, he did. But…after all this time, Sam still didn't know about his nephew, and Dean was reluctant to spring it on him.

When he parked the car outside FAY'S FINE DINER, he looked over at his son, who was staring contemplatively outside the window, tracking the raindrops that streaked down the glass.

"What's up? Having a mid-life crisis?" he asked teasingly albeit worriedly, eyes flickering down to check the silver pendants that always dangled from his neck and encircled his wrists.

The boy looked his way, large green eyes bright with fond exasperation.

The boy raises his hands. No, Daddy. _Just looking for the monster._ He signs. Dean purses his lips. "That's not your job, Marlo. It's too dangerous." He scolds gently, but it doesn't stop the boy from furrowing his eyebrows and pressing curiously.

_Why? I'm five now_, _and Grandpa said-, _

"I know what your Grandpa said!" his son shrinks back, a glint of fear shining in his eyes, and Dean feels his heart clench and his stomach recoil. "I'm sorry, Marlo, but we don't talk about your grandfather. Ever. Not after what he did to you. Even on your birthday."

His son nods, bottom lip trembling; he feels awful, but he knows he can't back down. Not from this. What his father did was unforgivable, and he longed for the day Marlo would understand.

"Now, c'mon, let's get you some cake." He smiles, and his son's eyes light up.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi, I'm Castiel, and I'll be your server today."

The man looked up, and his eyes were an arresting bright green, of which the small child vibrating in the opposite booth had in common. In fact, they had identical crooked smiles of excitement stretched as far as they could go across freckled cheeks, and Castiel felt his heart swoop in celebration of their happiness.

It caused him to glance over at his own child, who was coloring vigorously a couple tables over with a fork she'd somehow managed to put her hair up with, and he felt his whole body tingle and erupt with fondness and love.

He had not anticipated this much feeling at eight in the morning.

"What's up, Castiel! I think we're already set." The man announces as if this is some insurmountable feat, at which he sees the boy roll his eyes, and he allows himself a laugh.

"Good. What will you be having?" he asks, and the boy stares pointedly at his father, and the man holds his hands up in surrender.

"Jr. over here wants the big boy pancakes, cause he's five now. I don't know about you, Cas, but I'm thinking we should start filling out funeral home applications." The man said with a wink, and he about to play along when a head of frizzy scarlet hair appears behind the boy's booth.

"It's your birthday?" his daughter asks excitedly, and the boy is quick to jump around and nod. "What's your name?"

The boy grins proudly, before holding up his hand and signing a clean and quick M-A-R-L-O.

His daughter starts to glow at this point, and she thrusts her hands into the air to rev them into a babbling conversation.

"Whoa." He hears the man exclaim quietly. "She yours?" the man is looking at him now, a look of happy bemusement painted clear upon his face.

He nods, and the man grins knowingly. "I could tell. She's uh- she's got your eyes."

Castiel blushes and he stutters for a moment before finally managing, "Yes, she does. She may have gotten my looks, but she is her mother all around. It makes me wonder if personality traits are genetic, considering she has never met Meg."

The man looks over at Marlo for a moment, before doing the equivalent of a shrug with his mouth. "Mars hasn't met my brother, but they're so friggin alike its creepy."

"Children are constellations the world has yet to fathom." Castiel says softly, eyes catching on an irritated, red bump between the man's eyebrows, and he strangely thinks its endearing.


	4. Chapter 4

A man looked over the McDonalds counter, taping his hands against the grimy marble as though he had nothing else better to do then wonder aimlessly over the menu. "Okay, I'm sorry if this is uh…offensive, or whatever, but what the fuck kinda name is _Rodasi_?" he asked the employee opposite him, his eyes suddenly catching on her nametag.

The girl look up, her eyes void of any emotion as if the simple act of customer service was slowly killing her. She tapped the little silver plate on her chest with her hand, and leant against the counter with the other.

"It's pronounced Row-_dah_-see, dumb-ass, not _Row-duh-see_. Now, in case it had escaped you, there is a line behind you, and I will not hesitate to throw you out if you don't order something." She retorted with a twirl of a pale and slender finger. Then, she rose out of her slump, and stood to her full height with a smug expression. Of which, was six' two.

The significantly shorter man stuttered through his order of Chicken Nuggets, and then walked away with a metaphorical tail lax between his legs.

The line hesitantly shifted over to the other, less intimidating lady.

Rodasi sighed, and checked her phone for the time, hoping the last five minutes of her shift was over, as she'd determined by her last check.

She saw with a smile that her shift was indeed, now over. Life began to pool back into her slightly bagged, atmospherically ecchymotic oculi. Or, as she thought bitterly for the dull man she'd dealt with before, her _blue eyes_.

She then chided herself for thinking that those who wouldn't understand such complex vocabulary were dumb. They probably just didn't spend all their time on , unlike herself. Or spent as much time and vanity on their eyeballs.

She rolled the questionable things, and clocked out with a whoop. Her co-workers did not bother responding, because one; they were either entirely to freaked out by her unfeminine stature, or two; freaked out by her reclusive, and snappy personality.


	5. Chapter 5

"No, _no_!" a man slammed his hand forcefully against the white wall of the Winchester Mechanics lobby. His face was red, and he seethed with an immature rage only a bigoted, grown man in a small, rural town could achieve.

"Look, man, the price is pretty reasonable for that amount of damage. I mean if you don't want to spend that much money, I'd just go ahead and buy a new car, 'cause, man, that one is ancient-," the young man was cut off when the elderly one charged forward and grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt.

"You listen, here, son. I paid good money for that car, and I ain't planning on getting a new one. So I suggest you lower the price, or there will be some _serious_ consequences." He spat straight into the boy's face, and despite the knife he was trained to use sitting his back pocket, was frozen stiff with shock.

"I don't think so, Grumpy. Back the fuck off my son." Another voice ordered, and the old man turned around to face the other one with determination, only to find himself nose-to-nose with the barrel of Dean Winchester's gun.

"I-I-," the man stammered, holding up his hands in surrender. Dean rolled his eyes, and pursed his lips with annoyance.

"Oh, shut up. Get out-," the man stumbled towards the door. "-and don't expect your car back, either, yah douche-bag!" Dean called after him. He turned back to the boy with a worried expression. "Rammy, he didn't hurt you, right?"

"Nah, he was probably just talk, anyway. Thanks, Dad." The boy picked at his shirt, noticing the sweaty print the man's hand had left behind. Dean shoved the gun back into his pants, before ruffling his son's hair as he walked back to the shop.


	6. Chapter 6

Hands appeared behind the car window, thumping against an invisible barrier to the beat of an Asia song. The hands were big, slender, and pale.

Feet poked out the window from the backseat of the vehicle. They were tan, wide, and the toes just ever so slightly hairy. They tapped to another beat entirely, as though perhaps the owner of the appendages listened to another, more inferior song.

Arms dangled down from the roof of the car, the fingers tapping to the song that blared from said object's speakers. Feet were crossed in the air, just as large, and just as wide but much, much paler.

A tongue tapped against the roof of a mouth, where it was tucked inside in concentration. Tan, freckled arms swam in the guts of the car, crooked legs braced against the dry, gritty ground.

On a broken, worn chair colored a retched shade of pink, a body laid content and pliant in the warm, beating sun. The legs were spread wide, each one on a different side of the chair. The arms held a book in front of the face, blocking the horrid ball of gas that shone down on them all.

A pair of hands picked at a pencil, trying and failing to remove a slender piece of wood from where it was wrapped smugly around at least half of the graphite point. Hair fell into narrowed eyes, which commenced to roll before the hands thrust the utensil away.

Feet kicked up dirt and sand as they moved gracefully across the ground. The arms, however, jilted rather awkwardly to the beat. Hair whished through the air with an audible hiss, and a flowery dress flapped about with all the jerky movements.

A head popped out from behind a steel door. A pair of eyebrows furrowed menacingly, before the head was followed by a tall and intimidating body. Hands flew to hips, and lips pursed in anger.

"Why are you listening to this song?" Sam Winchester blurted, stalking towards the Impala. He reached in, over his shocked niece, and proceeded to eject the tape from its home.

"Hey!" said niece exclaimed, jolting upright with an offended expression. Sam gave her what they'd long since deemed his Fatherly-Bitchface, before backing awkwardly out of the door.

The woman fumbled after him, her long and choppy scarlet hair bouncing behind her. Her father popped into view from behind the hood, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. "What's got his thong in a twist?" Dean asked his daughter, wiping his hands off with a greasy rag.

His second eldest daughter, however, who had been watching un-amused from the top of the Chevy, scoffed and pointed accursedly at her uncle. "I'm thinking its Tuesday." She replied tactfully, before slipping off and landing with practiced ease. That did not stop her older father from jumping in her direction as if to catch her from the chair, his book flying in the air in the sudden movement.

"Please, Rodasi, be careful." Castiel replied wearily, before reaching down to retrieve his book. Dean smiled fondly in his direction, before patting his baby brother on the back.

"I didn't think you'd be able to hear it from inside." Dean griped, his eyes rolling despite himself.

"Yeah, Sammy, we were playing." Sam's youngest niece reassured, skipping over from where she'd been dancing. She slipped under his hand, burrowing into his side and reveling in his particular, uncle smell. Sam smiled, his irritation forgotten as he ruffled the short, blond locks that sprouted messily from his niece's head.

"Dad, while you're out here could you fix this?" his son asked, getting up from where he'd been laying down. His floppy, dark hair getting in his eyes again. He blew the bangs out of the way, and showed his father a god awful looking equation. Sam appraised it, too use to his own daughter's fiddling to notice his niece searching on the tip of her toes curiously through his pockets for what he'd usually assume was gum to swallow, and then shook his head apologetically.

"Sorry, Desstry, but I was always bad at math. Show Dean, he's the mechanic." Sam replied, before reaching down and lifting his niece into his arms. She plopped her head tiredly upon his shoulder, as though just being given the third most comfortable sleeping place could make her drowsy.

Dean shuffled over, picking the packet from his nephew's hand. He slashed away at the paper with the pencil for moment, and then smiled proudly up at Desstry (the boy was already so tall). "There you go college boy, go on being a geek."

"You're so full of poo, Dad." A giggling voice reprimanded from the car. Dean walked over and popped the big toe of one of the feet sticking so appetizingly out of the car window. A yelp was heard, and the appalled face of Dean's fifth eldest child thrust itself into view. "Ow!"

"Respect your father." Dean snapped, before going back to his work.

Rodasi walked over to Castiel, and proceeded to scoot him over forcefully so as to sit next to him on the rickety lawn chair. Castiel huffed, but complied. The thirteen year old leant her head against his shoulder, and her eyes closed contently. Castiel smiled, before continuing to read his book.

The eldest of Dean and Castiel's children joined her cousin on the ground, watching him work detachedly.

Sam walked back inside, his niece's messy hair falling down his back.

The reprimanded child simply continued listening to his Maroon 5 playlist.


	7. Chapter 7

"Okay, what're the rules?" Dean was slipping on his jacket, looking at the children sternly. Sam was stuffing things into a bag, and Castiel was cleaning a sword hastily.

"Don't open the door for anybody, 'cause they could be an any_thing_." Rodasi's twin answered saucily, her teal eyes rolling. Her cousin braced himself on her shoulder, looking smug because he'd yet again been deemed in charge.

"Yeah, and we can't go out either cause Sera's at work." He added, pulling his little cousin into a playful headlock. The girl scoffed, and they forgot the discussion in favor of beating the shit out of each other.

Rodasi watched them, tired and irritated. She looked at the three men, and sighed. "And we can't drink any of the alcohol, unfortunately."

The littlest of them all gasped, slipping around the girl's legs and rushing over to her father. Castiel picked her up, settling her on his hip before continuing with his task. "Rodasi, alcohol s'bad!" she reprimanded. It wasn't taken seriously of course, considering her hair was a failing braid of mousy chaos around her head, and all she wore was a Little Mermaid night gown.

"Listen to her, Rody; she knows where it's at." Dean smirked, before looking around. "Where's the dynamic duo?" he asked.

"Sleeping." She replied, blowing an obsidian strand of hair from her face. "They were up all night recreating Harry Potter again." The girl shuffled over to a chair, tripping just a bit with every step over her large tinker bell pajama pants.

Sam laughed. "Sounds like them. Just make sure they get up sometime before noon. You all know what to do in case of anything, and we trust you to not doing anything stupid." He looked at them firmly before whisking his niece from Castiel's arms, and hugging her rather tight.

"Be careful, Sammy!" She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her hair, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over him.

"Anything for you." He promised, before setting her down. The little girl didn't hesitate to jump into her father's arms, and do the exact same thing. Dean tossed her into the air, catching her under the arms so as to blow onto her belly. The girl squealed, before wriggling from his grasp and running away giggling.

"Dean, you're going to drop her eventually." Castiel reprimanded from where he'd managed to break up the scuffle between his third eldest daughter and his nephew. They were yelling profanity at each other viciously, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"You said that each time, and look how they all turned out." Dean gestured to rest of the kids, and Castiel made a face at the eldest Winchester. "Now, c'mon, that demon's not gonna kill itself."

Castiel said his goodbyes to the squabbling children, which fell on deaf ears, and then to Rodasi. Rodasi reminded them all that even if she hated most things, she most defiantly loved them, and if they got themselves killed she'd bring them back and do it _herself_.

The three men bustled out the door, eager to get the monthly hunt over and get back.


	8. Chapter 8

Seraphyna stared up at the ceiling, a detached, relaxed expression slack on her features. Her ear buds were in, her Uncle's playlist playing in her ears. She sat atop her sink, brushing her tangle of crimson waves. It fell only to her shoulders, unruly and tucked reluctantly behind her ear.

Her eyes, an almost unnerving contrast with her pale skin and bright hair, were an ocean hue. They were big, and had it not been for the natural fold above her eye- which she inherited from her father- they would have looked infinitely surprised.

Other than such an unusual hair-eye combination she was rather ordinary looking. Her face was round, her cheekbones prominent, but cheeks full and rosy.

She was small for a girl aged twenty four years, for she had yet to become even slightly voluptuous. She was average sized, at a healthy five' three.

"Sera?" Seraphyna looked down to see her sister leaning against the bathroom counter, looking bored. Sera, with a twinkle in her eye, reached down to haul the girl into her lap.

"How's my princess?" Seraphyna pondered teasingly, running her fingers through the girl's hair. The younger girl grinned enthusiastically, making a face at herself in the mirror.

Where Seraphyna had pale features, Imogene had warm ones. Her skin was about the same shade as their father Dean's, complete with freckles, her hair just as identical. The texture was wavy like her cousin's, and reached wildly to her shoulders.

Her eyes were a bright green color, still round and large with youth.

"Let me do your hair, Immy." Sera sighed jokingly, before picking up the little girl's Suave Detangling Spray, and squirting it everywhere she knew the tangles would be the worst.

She began at the tips, and worked her way up, just like her father had taught her. Imogene made little to no squeals of protest, so Sera deemed this particular time a success. When she was done brushing it, she did the girl's hair the only way she knew how.

She pulled it back at the temples, and twisted the locks as it wrapped to the back. She flicked a hair tie from her wrist, and wrung it around the thick and admittedly messy twist.

"There y'go kiddo." Sera announced, and Immy proceeded to show her glee through a fine screech. She jumped out of her lap, standing dangerously on the counter now, to stare at herself in the mirror.

"I am a princess!" she exclaimed, turning and jumping down from the counter. Sera sucked in a breath, reaching out instinctively. Immy ran out the door, the fact that she'd scared the breath out of her sister never registering in her brain.

Sera chose that moment to slip from the counter also and to shuffle to her room so she could change out of her work clothes.


End file.
